Nonsenseorship | Page 4

terms of the existence of mortals one decision is not enough. We must
keep reaffirming decisions if they are to hold. Even in Eden there was
the germ of a new threat to degrade Adam and Eve back to innocence.
When they ate the apple an amoeba in a distant corner of the Garden
shuddered and began the long and difficult process of evolution. To all
practical purposes John S. Sumner was already born.
To us the whole theory of censorship is immoral. If its functions were
administered by the wisest man in the world it would still be wrong.
But of course the wisest man in the world would have too much sense
to be a censor. We are not dealing with him. His substitutes are
distinctly lesser folk. They are not even trained for their work except in
the most haphazard manner. Obviously a censor should be the most
profound of psychologists. Instead the important posts in the agencies
of suppression go to the boy who can capture the largest number of
smutty post cards. After he has confiscated a few gross he is promoted
to the task of watching over art. By that time he has been pretty
thoroughly blasted for the sins of the people. An extraordinary number
of things admit of shameful interpretations in his mind.
For instance, the sight of a woman making baby clothes is not generally
considered a vicious spectacle in many communities, but it may not be
shown on the screen in Pennsylvania by order of the state board of
censors. In New York Kipling's Anne of Austria was not allowed to
"take the wage of infamy and eat the bread of shame" in a screen
version of "The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding House." Thereby a most
immoral effect was created. Anne was shown wandering about quite
casually and drinking and conversing with sailors who were perfect
strangers to her, but the censors would not allow any stigma to be
placed upon her conduct. Indeed this decision seems to support the
rather strange theory that deeds don't matter so long as nothing is said
about them.

The New York picture board is peculiarly sensitive to words. Upon one
occasion a picture was submitted with the caption, "The air of the
South Seas breathes an erotic perfume." "Cut out 'erotic,'" came back
the command of the censors.
In Illinois, Charlie Chaplin was not allowed to have a scene in "The
Kid" in which upon being asked the name of the child he shook his
head and rushed into the house, returning a moment later to answer,
"Bill." That particular board of censors seemed intent upon keeping
secret the fact that there are two sexes.
Of course, it may be argued that motion pictures are not an art and that
it makes little difference what happens to them. We cannot share that
indifference. Enough has been done in pictures to convince us that very
beautiful things might be achieved if only the censors could be put out
of the way. Not all the silliness of the modern American picture is the
fault of the producers. Much of the blame must rest with the various
boards of censorship. It is difficult to think up many stories in which
there is no passion, crime, or birth. As a matter of fact, we are of the
opinion that the entire theory of motion picture censorship is mistaken.
The guardians of morals hold that if the spectator sees a picture of a
man robbing a safe he will thereby be moved to want to rob a safe
himself. In rebuttal we offer the testimony of a gentleman much wiser
in the knowledge of human conduct than any censor. Writing in "The
New Republic," George Bernard Shaw advocated that hereafter public
reading-rooms supply their patrons only with books about evil
characters. For, he argued, after reading about evil deeds our longings
for wickedness are satisfied vicariously. On the other hand there is the
danger that the public may read about saints and heroes and drain off its
aspirations in such directions without actions.
We believe this is true. We once saw a picture about a highwayman
(that was in the days before censorship was as strict as it is now) and it
convinced us that the profession would not suit us. We had not realized
the amount of compulsory riding entailed. The particular highwayman
whom we saw dined hurriedly, slept infrequently, and invariably had
his boots on. Mostly he was being pursued and hurdling over hedges. It

left us sore in every muscle to watch him. At the end of the eighth reel
every bit of longing in our soul to be a swashbuckler had abated. The
man in the picture had done the adventuring for us and we could